Thundercloud
by walkingdisastersharkchild
Summary: There just always seemed to be one hanging over his head. Or nearby, at least, to ruin his damn cheery demeanour. Cloud/Tifa, Zack/Aerith, Slight AH/AU
1. Chapter 1

**This is to be the beginning, the continuation and the end of Lackadaisical. **

**I seriously **could not** help myself.  
**

**This seems short once again. It's not, actually, just paragraphing is always so damn annoying here.  
**

**Disclaimer: Do not own, although some parts I wouldn't mind having a say in.**

**Note: Slight ah, slight au, so do expect slight ooc-ness  
**

* * *

He stepped out of the shared apartment quietly, the door making a small noise. Letting a small sigh of relief leave him, Cloud Strife set off, avoiding the elevator for a multitude of reasons. He headed down the flights of stairs, through the foyer and out onto the footpath with little to no interruptions.

_Perfect_.

It was cold, the dew still present on the grass as he passed by houses and other buildings. Early too, as the only cars passing by containing, he presumed, the late-night worker or a rather sad party-animal of sorts.

Never minding the actions of others, Cloud set himself at a reasonable pace once completely out of the view of his apartment. He didn't want his _roommates_ to find out just how early he was out jogging. They would turn more parental than friendly if they did catch word of the hours he had actually been asleep for. He could tell that they were already suspicious, but seeing as he didn't present any form of sleep deprivation, they hadn't approached him about it. Thank Shiva.

Turning another corner, he passed the house of a rather unpleasant person who he had no desire of learning the name of. The house was not unpleasant itself, in fact well adorned and managed, flowers already opening towards the heavens as heavy clouds slowly rolled in.

Swearing under his breath, he increased his pace, hoping to make it in time before a downpour. It would be just his luck to be caught out in a storm.

Nothing had seemed to have gone his way since arriving in Midgar three years prior. His entry into the Shinra Academy was denied at the last minute, due to constraints of such he couldn't fully understand, which ultimately led to them denying him a place in their army. That was a large blow to his pride, and he still hadn't fully recovered that loss of a dream.

It wasn't anything to do with him physically, he was sure about that. He had seen men in Shinra smaller than his 5'7", and he had always maintained near immaculate health. There was the very rare bout of a cold, but he was fine, physically. Sure his mental health could be a bit _iffy _at times, but otherwise, he was fine.

Even three years after, they still hadn't given him an answer. Just promised to call back when they found the documents that stated a reason for being denied at the last minute.

Shrugging the thought away, he tried to bring about pleasant thoughts. Like how he had briefly left Midgar for a small apprenticeship in Modeoheim, and had met his first real friend, Zack Fair, there. They had been able to set up a life in Midgar, running a small delivery service which brought in a decent amount of income.

Stopping to tie a shoelace, Cloud remembered when Zack first brought Aerith Gainsborough home, and how she had been expecting to meet the _parents_ and not the _roommate_. It had been rather awkward at first, but that was quickly forgotten as Cloud asked how they had met. It was a rather strange explanation of how they had first met. Something to do with crashing through a church roof.

He grinned at that, stretched his arms above his head, and turned to go back home. He still didn't believe that _that_ had happened. No matter how much stronger and resilient Zack was he wasn't Superman. He didn't believe that anyone could crash through a roof and survive.

Cloud jogged back, passing the perfect house with its imperfect resident, and resisted an urge to blow a raspberry at the house. He really disliked the guy living there. The jerk managed to make everyday a living Hell for Cloud, going so far as to steal his clothing and using his boxers as a flag. Even going so far as to salute them, which Cloud found rather disturbing.

Cloud seriously believed that those actions only happened in ridiculously corny movies. Obviously, he was dead wrong.

Slipping back up the stairs quietly, Cloud sighed. The rain had just started, and the unmistakeable claps of thunder had begun.

Aerith was a _reasonably_ deep sleeper, by any standard. As was Zack. Sadly, she had a _small _fear of thunder and lightning, waking up from whatever deep slumber she was in instantly. Zack would then wake, making efforts to calm Aerith by any means possible.

Most means were truly unpleasant to Cloud, and he sent a little prayer the Gods above that they hadn't started _that_ again.

His prayers were - for once - answered, as he walked in and met with two sets of eyes. The coffeepot was steaming and blankets had been thrown over the backs of the stools.

Smiling, he shut the door behind him. Aerith ran into his outstretched arms, shaking a little as the claps and rolls of thunder went on for some time. Cloud smoothed her hair and brushed the loose strands out of her face, hooking them around her ear. Feeling his heavy stare, he looked up at Zack, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Where were you, Cloud?" Aerith asked for him, looking up with wide eyes.

"I went for a run, like I always do," Cloud said, shrugging. They should have known by now.

He had been going for runs early in the morning for a little over a year now. It was a habit to expel dangerous thoughts.

"Even in this weather?" Zack asked, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing just a little.

Cloud refused to roll his eyes at that rather stupid comment, instead settling for a few words. "I hadn't realised it would turn out like this."

"Bullshit."

"Zack," Aerith started, turning to face the angry man.

Cloud narrowed his eyes, and Aerith slipped out of his grasp. He could feel an argument starting, and he didn't like it. He didn't get why it was just so goddamn hard for Zack to let him do things on his own. Did the man expect him to just keel over and die? And, when had this need for parental supervision begun?

"Aerith, come on, you can't deny that you weren't worried."

"Still, just leave it."

"For _one_ _day_, would you two _please_ just stop talking about me like I'm not here? Is that so hard to ask?"

Aerith and Zack looked at Cloud, who was just seeping anger. He hated being babied. It was the worst feeling in the world, having everything bubble-wrapped and censored. How in the world did they expect him to learn a life lesson or grow the _fuck_ up if they continued to tell him what to do? No wonder he wasn't getting anywhere. All because of this.

Zack opened his mouth to retort, but decided against it. He was only trying to help, really. He just didn't want to see Cloud fall down in another heap due to depression, or worse, the stigma that was floating around. It would kill him to see the kid brought down _again_ by something like that.

Sighing, Cloud walked past the couple, heading for his room. He was really tempted to kick one of the unpacked boxes on his way to the spiral staircase. But that would make him look even more like a child, which would call for more parental attitude.

Looking to his left, he didn't feel in the mood to admire the view that was established by the glass panelling of the lower floor. The panels spanned the entire wall; all were a good 20 feet tall, meaning the lower floor was always the brightest. Which would normally please him with the outlandish view, and with a storm coming, it always looked that much better.

After coming into a considerable amount of wealth, which he still would not give details about, Zack set about spoiling himself with the best. It was reasonably childish at the time, but Zack had yet to show signs of regret towards the decision, instead still basking in the ostentatious apartment with fervour. Even though they all had little to no material possessions to fill it with.

Sadly, the staircase always failed to provide a dramatic entrance or exit, as apart from having to go round and round, it always induced a small amount of nausea. He always had a sick feeling that he was standing at the edge of the earth when on the second floor of the very large loft. A firm grip on the railing helped him, ever so slightly.

Walking into his room, he completely ignored the Corinthian columns which he had always made an effort to look at. He was just too jittery and angry and _sick_ to care. He did end up kicking an empty box across the floor, possibly leaving a mark. He was in too much of a bout to care, though, and basically begged for some sort of response to come. When nothing did, he huffed and continued walking.

The floor beneath him was a rich mahogany, with a thick golden carpet underneath his feet, and always managed to seem to move with him. The dark swirls on the bare walls were entrancing to say the least, and were not helping to calm his turbulent stomach. He was glad he hadn't taken the elevator. Really, truly glad.

Throwing himself down on the _king size_ bed, he looked around his room.

He was such a dick, acting like he didn't care and didn't appreciate what Zack and Aerith were doing for him. He should just take his own advice and grow the _fuck_ up. Grow a pair and deal with it. The things he thought everyday when seeing his classmates. Why couldn't he just follow his own advice, just _for once_? Really, was it that hard? Apparently so.

The walls were a dusty bluish grey, with fabric - a darker shade than the carpet - hanging above the bed. Unconsciously, Cloud reached up to feel the fabric. It was soft like silk and so smooth. Distracted, he calmed down considerably, feeling glum, sombre and empty. Drained of all emotions to even care or move. Which annoyed him, as he know had nothing to truly run on.

He eyed the increasing pile of _junk_ - as Zack had lightly put it - in the far corner. He needed to sort through it all, but he didn't feel a need to at that very moment. It was mainly full of CDs, vinyls and DVDs. The shelving opposite the bed was intended to hold said items, but he hadn't found the time to sort through them all.

The little alarm next to his bed went off; telling him it was 7:30am. He silently congratulated the little machine, and smashed the snooze button with a closed fist.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is to be the beginning, the continuation and the end of Lackadaisical. **

**Finally got around to finishing this chapter. I'm horrible, I know, I know.****  
**

**Disclaimer: Do not own, although some parts I wouldn't mind having a say in.**

**Note: Slight ah, slight au, so do expect slight ooc-ness  
**

* * *

Stepping off the bus with extra annoyance for good measure, Cloud huffed at the sight of the school. He didn't like it here. It was a backwater school, when it came down to it. He was used to backwater, truly, but he had thought that moving to Midgar would change all that. He had thought that things would take an upward turn. Not downwards and then horizontal.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Cloud moved with the crowd towards the entrance. They were screened for weapons, drugs and alcohol here, which failed to surprise him _now_. At first, he had been completely shocked by the measures the school took, but now it was just something that he had to deal with in order to get that certificate saying he made it _somewhere_ in life.

Allowing some guy to push him through a metal detector with little to no effort, Cloud swooped for his bag and kept walking. He had no patience for them to really do a full body check, and besides, the guys knew him too well to keep him back for too long. He was a _good boy_, so they could _trust_ _him_.

Avoiding any further contact with bodyguards - or males larger than himself for that matter - Cloud ducked into the main building. He wasn't _technically_ allowed in the building until the first bell rang, but technicalities aside, if they expected him to live any longer in this hole, they had to have exceptions _some_ of the time. Like now as Cloud ducked into the closest classroom, after spotting a teacher walk past him, completely oblivious.

Keeping the door open a crack to keep watch, Cloud let out a sigh. He could hear his classmates shouting outside, and was completely content with being away from them. He had always been excluded, so why change something now when he - and the rest of society - was so damn used to it? He didn't see any reason to, so he didn't do anything about it. Neither did they.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Cloud whirled around. Chanting more words than necessary under his breath, he looked around the room. He half expected the principal to walk out from some secret door. He seemed to have a habit of doing that at the most inappropriate times.

Instead, he was presented with an admirable set of legs that he recognised rather well. Fighting a blush, Cloud looked up at the owner's eyes.

The owner of the legs suppressed a smile and instead sent him a knowing look. "Nice to know you have hormones, Cloud."

Cloud huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking away. He didn't know what to retort with, exactly, as he most definitely had hormones. Well, _he_ would know, as he had to subtly change his sheets every so often, as she, his mind and his bed often had wonderful moments together, and left the rest of him to deal with the aftermath. She wasn't privy to that information, however.

"I'm kidding, Cloud."

Sometimes, he wished she would stop ending almost all her sentences with his name. She had his _undivided_ attention, regardless of the situation, but to make it more obvious somewhat annoyed him. Maybe it was because Aerith did the same thing, but her tone was more chiding than what the girl in front of him used. The girl's tone was just … indescribable and yet he had hundreds of words stored in his head to describe it.

"I know, Tifa."

He looked over at as he sighed. They had grown up _near_ each other in the small town of Nibelheim. They weren't as close as everyone thought, regardless of living next door to each other for most of their childhood. He wasn't exactly welcome within range of the Lockhart household, and the areas around the other children's homes, anyway. And, Tifa hadn't always acknowledged him up until the incident.

_Accidents happen_, his mother had argued, but people still locked their doors at night like he was going to charge in and murder them all. A tempting thought, but it remained a thought for a long, long time, only ever cropping up when _Nibelheim_ and _him_ were roped into the same sentence.

Clearing her throat in that terribly uncomfortable manner, Tifa pushed herself off the table. Cloud had resigned himself to wandering around the room, not recognising it in the slightest, and picking up an assortment of items scattered about, seemingly interested in them so much, Tifa made a quiet escape.

He did, however, notice, and made no move to say anything other than a small 'goodbye' she didn't hear. It didn't faze him, as he was sad to say that he was used to being ignored, or treated _gently_. It was one of the things that came with the territory of being Cloud Strife, freak extraordinaire.

He placed a small blue gem back in its box, and closed the lid, running his hands through his hair as the bell rang.

As he left the classroom, he caught sight of Tifa in the corridor, talking to friends that he would never recognise, save for Aerith of course. As far as he was concerned, they were all a bunch of airheads that he had little time for, and only ever conversed with when forcefully paired with and made to do all the work.

Turning, he ignored the small smile sent his way and kept walking, head down and pushing through the crowd.

He was invisible, and that was the way he liked it.

Reaching his locker, and paying no attention to the intense match of tonsil-hockey happening next to him, he fiddled with the lock until it sprang open.

A loud bang rang out, and Cloud only had a second's notice to close his eyes.

Something wet, sticky, and smelling oddly like the strawberries from home, hit him in the face and chest. He didn't have to think hard for long to figure it out, when the laughter began.

"Aw, man, haven't they taught you to use a tampon?"

Gritting his teeth, Cloud opened his eyes and looked down at his shirt.

And there was the tell tale sign of just how much combined brain power it had taken to install such a thing to shoot him with red goo. He would applaud them for convincing someone doing engineering to construct such a mechanism, but he was already walking up to the culprits and leaning in too close for comfort.

"Do you have something you want to say?"

Jerk did little but edge back slightly. Strife was just another fish in the sardine packet to him, who had the funniest reactions to most things. But now, he wasn't sure if he had overstepped the line. Just quietly, the boy scared the shit out of him.

At the jeering of his friends, he leaned forward, not showing just how disconcerted he was by the odd colouring of Strife's eyes.

"Yeah. Here's a tampon. Learn how to use one."

He slammed the packet into Cloud's chest, pressing it hard enough that it would stick to the goo. Cloud looked down, raised his eyebrows and looked back up. He was not impressed.

"Raiding your mother's cupboards for them again? Tut, tut. Wouldn't she like to know that her precious little boy has female problems of his own, too?"

The words were his death, as Jerk roared, and threw Cloud against the lockers, sufficiently bruising the boy's back.

Cloud did little to prevent it, looking off to the side like he was bored, and catching Aerith's eye. She was on her phone, and he knew exactly who she was calling.

Feeling a surge of anger, Cloud turned back to the guy pinning him against the lockers.

"You know, I always thought you looked better in red."

Cloud reached into his locker, grabbed as much of the goo as he could, and slammed it into Jerk's face, rubbing it in and grinning the whole while.

His victory didn't last long, however.

"Mr. Strife! My office. _Now_."


End file.
